Strange Folk
by darkchashy
Summary: Welcome to West-turn, Pleasant days, careful nights


         It was a full week after the murders started that the two of them came, During a violent summer dust storm in the New Mexico town of Flooringston, 18 72.

       Like being in a coal fire was it in that dust storm. The grit would get flung into the air by the wind and then after the sun got it good and hot, it would rain down like hail onto our heads, pelting our buildings and leaving scars in their wooden fronts… and backs for that matter. It was for this reason that our humble little coal mining town often closed up shop in the summer and did our business mostly in the winter where it could get deathly cold so that your fingers cracked in the mornings and the occasional cold rain would give you seconds thoughts about the severity of those summer dust storms. But otherwise winter was a much better time for wagons and coaches to trade their food and supplies for our blessed black rock. 

       So when I saw that stage burst through that cloud of dust like sir death himself descending from the heavens, I don't mind telling you, the fear of god crawled up my back and down into my belly. The old miner that I was, truth know it, I suppose I am open a bit to superstition. But that godforsaken coach could have probably scared the devil into repenting, the way it come out of there. Though the wind and the dust smited the air filth fully I saw it all from the porch of the wet doggy saloon, preferring the dust in my face to another minute sheltered in with the town drunks, bragging and lying to each other about how they could lift horses off the ground and have the whores begging for more after one night of carnal delight. A summer of that's well more then enough to drive an old coot like me over the steep hills. 

       Forgive me; I have a tendency to wander. Is the way of the old and long winded, I guess.

       Anyway, this here coach came ramming through the sand, Eight o'clock, that morning and sped straight up Main Street toward the wet doggy. A silly name, I know but it was named after a retarded man's pet that died during it's construction. But I digress, that's a story for another time. The oddity of this couch did not waver when it approached, led by four horses, which were wrapped head, to hoof in some sort of stitch work leather as if to keep the blowing sand off of them though it must have been miserably hot. The couch itself looked like something from that French country, the one that's always fightin, it's framing, it's door, even the wheels, all could have fit one the description in one word; ornate. Even in the hard storm, it seemed to shine and glimmer as it slowed through main street and pulled up to the doggy.  The curtains on the door window were drawn inside and even in the storm shown like silk.  The coach was also very large, like looking up at a railroad car. Though I quickly looked back down as the wind assaulted me, shielding my face with my forearm. As I looked back, I saw patrons coming out of the saloon. Wally, one of the many town drunks staggered forward blinking and dragging his bottle, Cindy, one of the employees for Maggie's establishment upstairs came out fluttering her hand fan like a queen in the garden, then Morton, formerly town deputy, currently standing Sheriff since what's left of Sheriff Buford was found behind the livery. All of them stared up at the couch with a lot of puzzlement and awe.

       "What the hell, Oscar?" Morton asked, oh and by the way Oscar Templemans the name.

       "Don't rightly know, Mort," I said as we continued to stand under the couch, which made no movement, not even the horses, which were like statues now, not even panting. 

       "I'll tell you what it is" Cindy answered, more for her then for us of course "Money" Ever the business woman was Cindy, arching her back so her chests looked about ready to spill out onto the ground. Wally stared at them gleefully and chuckled.

       I suppose I've left enough room for you folks for dramatic affect, so I'll tell you the most striking feature of this coach right now. Mort said it right properly himself actually.

       "Where's the driver?" He asked

       "Never was one." I answered, staring at the couch door, feeling their eyes on me foe a moment. They shifted back to the couch as a latch clicked and the door began to swing open. 

The couch was well lit on the inside, though you couldn't see it, only a golden glowing outline around some huge figure standing just inside the door. Like the man was touched by God, if it was a man, even now I have my doubts. 

He crouched down and showed us the flat top of a short brimmed black hat he was wearing, his hands were gloved in black and as he stepped out, he touched his cane to the ground. A cane made of fine oak, with a simple doorknob headpiece. He wore a large black overcoat and a business suit that told of a man who discussed matters over a good liquor and smoke and would not mind dashing some cards out of his pocket to play a quick game with his associates. His boots looked like hard dried leather, ready to kick someone in their sorry ass should they ever cross him and steel tipped, also polished black. As both boots hit the ground, one after another, the man stood up, seven feet tall if he was a centimeter and as thick and lean as one of them boys that jump around on them wires in the city circuses. Under the suit was what appeared to be a white satin shirt, which could only be seen by one of those puffy chest things coming out of his low cut collar, which name escapes me, and on it looked to be a small red ruby. The shirt could also be seen barely peeking out of his cuffs and on his left hand ring finger was a small gold ring (as small a ring that could fit on his finger) with a black stone imbedded in it. A man didn't walk around parts like these carrying wealth on his person like that unless he could back it up with action. Just from a glance, I guessed that he could.

Then the man looked up and the sight caused Cindy to gasp and Wally, who looked away from Cindy to see what she was looking at, to laugh for a brief moment, Mort and I, well I guess we both sort of shuddered..

Now the man was built like a horse and looked like he could wrestle crocodiles, but god almighty if you ever saw a sweeter face. For a moment, I nearly set myself laughing too. But I didn't, his check bones were high up on the sides and his skin looked pale as a dead man and smooth as a baby's ass, though it probably wouldn't be if we stood out here any longer. His mouth was thin and did not look like it had been used to smile in quite some time and his nose was just as thin and small. Encircling all of this was a halo of cold gray hair that appeared to be tied ponytail style in the back. All this would explain Wally's laughter, but there was also reason for his quick ceasing from his merriment. First being the man's presence of course, but also a look in his eyes, which seemed soft and hard at the same time. Like a sleepy cat that, if it saw a mouse, would not be slow to strike.

He looked over all of us quick and good, as if acknowledging but also preparing incase we should attack, and then he tipped his hat at us.

"Ma'am, Gentlemen" He answered to our stares. Another surprise, his voice was a low powerful rumble, just a tad thick. Which like his body did not seem to match his face.

"Sir" We all answered in turn, the men tipping their hats, Wally, his bottle and Cindy, probably other things.

He bowed to the side and removed his hat and as he turned back to face the coach door, I saw that his hair nearly went down the length of his back. Then I saw the woman to whom he was paying courtesy. 

She stepped out wearing a long city dress that ended in a tight collar around her throat with short sleeves relieved by long black gloves, her face was shielded by a thick netting descending from a lady's hat atop her head, but it did not hide her beauty and golden hair peaked out around the nettings ends, she carried an umbrella under her arm and looked just as sweet and delicate as man could ask for. What the hell was she doing in Flooringston     

The man offered his hand and she took it as she gently plopped herself down from the carriage. Looking to us, she offered a radiant smile and bowed, holding the sides of her dress. 

"Ma'am, Gentlemen"

Again we all replied, tipping our hats and bottles respectively, all except Cindy, who stomped back into the saloon. I thought to my self that soon we all were going to have to. My skin was felt red and raw from the sand and I could hear Wally grumbling to himself.

The girl looked all around the Building and smiled wider as she did.

"Lovely place, Alfred, we must stay here for the night I do say" She was joking, as if it was one of a great selection of motels In town. "It would suit me"

"Yes Maria" The man, Alfred replied, replacing his hat, holding out his huge fore-arm which she took affectionately, the coach door slammed shut and the couch sped off somewhere, again, all by itself.

       They began to walk foreword and we stepped aside, Mort saying as in passing "Welcome to Floorington" The lady nodded and the man lifted his hat again briefly. They stepped inside the saloon leaving Mort and me standing in a dust storm looking at where they had stood and glancing back at each other, I straightened up and tried to look composed, Mort followed suit.

       "What do you make of that?" He asked wonderingly.

       I answered calmly, reaching for my chew "Don't know, fellow and his young lady on a business trip, probably got waylaid from the storm" Though from the look of that carriage, I had thought to myself, they could have made it straight up into Montana if they'd had the itch to.

       Mort nodded his head then said suspiciously " Or could be some bastard trying to muscle poor Jacob out of the mine." Jacob Rainsly was the old man who owned the coalmine. Stubborn old bastard could have made a lot of money if he wished, had been offered a fortune by the big mining companies if they could buy him out. But all old men have their hang-ons and the land that Jacob's papa had given him was his, a land that just happened to have a large coal deposit under a smaller one that was a little deep for one man and his six boys to reach in any sort of time.

       "Could be" I said "But I wonder" Mort lit his cigarette and looked at me quite agitated. 

       "What do you figure then?" He asked

       "Don't know," I said walking toward the saloon after the new couple "lets go in, this dust is killing me."


End file.
